Thanks, Dad
by Ommallaredpanda
Summary: Luke mistakenly drops out of hyperspace (literally) right under the nose of the Executor. Vader, with clear orders to deliver Luke to his Master, Darth Sidious, lives up to the name "Skywalker".


Vader stared silently out of the transparisteel into space. He was aboard the _Executor_, the finest men and women of the Empire manned his bridge and Admiral Piett stood somewhere behind him, projecting a sort of commanding calm. It was refreshing to have someone who didn't fear him, and managed to also not be a genocidal maniac. Piett was almost a blessing from the Force. Vader had not managed to suffer the company of anyone else for even half as long as he had with the Admiral without feeling the urge to wring their neck. In fact, he was stunned to find himself even _enjoying_ conversation with the man.

Because of this high opinion, Vader pulled Piett along with him when the Thing Happened.

Vader was standing, quite morosely, by the view screen, staring into space with about as much emotion as a murder droid. Then, a blinding _supernova_ of Force presence went and metaphorically punched him in the stomach. His respirator skipped a cycle and his eyes began to water. With an extraordinary amount of willpower, Vader flung up shields against that amazing presence and turned from his customary position. Someone called out to Piett; "Sir… There's an X-wing that just dropped out of hyperspace one klick in front of us."

Just like the rest of the crew, Piett looked quite floored. His eyebrows were raised almost comically, as were the rest of the bridge crew's. But, the well-oiled Imperial machine didn't hesitate longer than that. The Admiral dipped his head and then began to fire out orders. "Shields at full forward power and ready the turbo-lasers. There could be more of them." After all, it wasn't unusual for the Rebel's terrible discipline and tactics to result in a botched ambush.

However, that wasn't the case this time. In fact, Vader could even feel the pilot's fear spiking wildly. "Do not fire," Vader calmly countermanded, sweeping down the bridge. "Admiral, with me." Without breaking stride, the Emperor's Fist disappeared into one of the briefing rooms that jutted off from the bridge. Thankfully, each one was soundproofed and void of any sort of recording devices. Well, thankfully for Vader, more like ominously for Piett.

Once the two were inside the room and the door had slid shut behind them, Piett stood to attention, "Yes, My Lord?" He said.

Vader didn't answer. Instead, he collapsed into the nearest chair, which groaned under his weight. "Admiral, what do you know of the Rebel pilot Luke Skywalker?"

Piett was thrown momentarily, but was back on the ball within a second. "He destroyed the Death Star, My Lord. And we have been searching for him since. You also placed a large bounty on-"

"He's my son."

There was silence. Piett shifted on his feet uneasily, trying to gauge how much longer until his right to oxygen was rescinded. From his commander's slumped posture, it was hard to tell. So, as with all things Vader, Piett decided that honesty was probably the best policy. "I… did not know My Lord." Piett said. Another weighty silence descended. "Do you have any orders for me concerning…" What would the boy's title be?! Piett had no experience with royalty, or how the Imperial system worked regarding it. After a long moment, he decided to just take a stab in the dark and pray to the Force it didn't merit a strangling from his superior. "Lord Skywalker?"

"I- I don't know…"

Well, that was a surprise. This must have come as a shock for Vader too, then. If he hadn't been expecting the kid, then what was going on?

"Then may I suggest the use of a tractor beam to get him safely aboard, My Lord?"

"Yes, that should work." Vader replied, waving his Admiral off. Once Piet had marched his way – regulation perfect – from the room, he slumped down even further, mask thumping into the table. He had the feeling that this worried exasperation he now felt had been a common occurrence for his old Master. How had the old man survived?! Luke just dropping in like that had almost given Vader a heart attack; such was the strength of the sudden tide of protective concern.

After a few seconds to help himself calm down, Vader raised his head once again, paying little attention to the large dent he had made in the table. Carefully, he reached out through the Force towards his son.

"_Luke?" _He sent towards the miniature star that had suddenly appeared. _"What are you doing here?! If I had not been on the bridge, you would have been blown apart!"_

He hadn't meant to say as much as that, and it had certainly came out for less Sith-ly than he had intended, but it got the message across. He hoped.

After a few vague feelings in the Force as Luke fumbled, trying to reply, the familiar Tatooine twang made its way to Vader's ears. _"Father?! What is going on; where am I? Is this the Hoth system?"_

"_No. We're in orbit above Lothal. Do not worry; you and your Rebel friends are safe. You are being pulled aboard by a tractor beam."_

"_**What**__?!" _Luke yelled over the link. _"So you're just going to torture me like you did Leia?"_

"_Of course not!"_

"_You know that I'll never join you. Kill me and be done with it." _With his piece said, Luke severed the telepathic link, leaving Vader floundering at the sudden loss of his son's warmth.

Moments later, an ensign's head appeared through the door, announcing that Luke had been safely pulled in. Vader nodded and stood, armour-weave cape snapping behind him as he stormed through the _Executor's _halls. Within five minutes, he was at the hangar, standing with crossed arms before the battle-damaged X-wing. In the cockpit, a furious face glared down at him.

With a flick of his wrist, Vader forced the hatch to open and, when Luke refused to climb out, gripped the child by his gaudy orange jumpsuit and hauled him out. Even through Vader's red lenses, he could tell the outfit was a disaster. Really, the Rebels deserved to be wiped out simply for _that_ atrocity, never mind how they utterly _massacred_ perfectly good ships.

Once Luke had been lowered to the ground before him, Vader (gently) cuffed him and turned as if to walk from the hangar with his charge in tow when a sudden ecstatic beeping called to him from the X-wing.

Vader froze in place and whipped his head towards the source of the sound fast enough that even his metal vertebrae groaned in protest. "Artoo?"

Another set of whistles, and a few quite rude blats later, and the familiar blue-and-white astromech launched himself out of the X-wing and landed with a resounding clunk before his old master.

"What in the Force happened to your jets?" Vader asked after a couple of moments of astonished silence. "I worked _hard_ to graft them into your systems, so what happened?"

Artoo let out a sad, low boop. Vader only just managed to hold back a snort of laughter. Then, seemingly remembering exactly where they were, he turned and fast-marched his way out of there, Luke barely able to keep up, but R2-D2 happily whirring along behind.

Once Vade and his entourage left the hangar bay, Piett let out his sigh of relief. And then overheard a conversation, between two grease monkeys speculating over this recent turn of events. The words "droid kink," "robo-dick" and "threesome" came up often enough within the five seconds Piett listened caused both his face to feel like it was about to combust, and him to flee after his commanding officer. And, from previous experience with the _Executor's _infamous rumour mill, he knew it could only get worse. At least now he knew he had the largest mass-strangling event in history to look forward to.

Vader lead his son (_his son!_) through the winding halls of the _Executor_ until, finally, they arrived at his quarters. Once inside, he removed the cuffs from his boy's wrists and quickly checked there were no marks before setting him loose on his personal rooms.

Luke swiftly got to the other side of the room, and then turned to level the most impressive scowl he could muster at his father. "So, what are you going to do with me?"

"I don't know." Vader didn't particularly want to lie and even if he wanted to, his whirling thoughts wouldn't have made it very easy. No, better to be honest from the start. "But, no harm shall come to you."

Silence permeated the room after Vader's statement, only interrupted by Artoo's whistling. The droid, after doing a few excited circuits of the room, bumped into Vader's leg in a familiar manoeuvre, causing Vader to automatically rest his hand atop the droid's dome.

"You know Artoo?" Luke asked as he watched the exchange quietly.

"He was my astromech during the Clone Wars." He patted the blue and white dome almost affectionately. "I should have known you had him; it explains how you've managed to keep most of your limbs up until now."

Luke snorted. "I'm not that bad! I can look after myself, you know."

Vader smiled indulgently behind his mask, despite the pain it caused him as his half-healed burns pulled. "Of course you can young one. I don't doubt your abilities."

"So," Luke said as he turned to take in the lobby he and Vader stood in, "Do you just stand in an empty room during your free time or do you have some more?"

"More; all for the invigorating purpose of standing around in." Once he had caught sight of the agape look on Luke's face – surprised at his sense of humour, no doubt – Vader turned on his heel and marched toward a door which lead deeper into his quarters. The sheet of durasteel slid aside noiselessly and Vader stepped through. When he did not sense Luke behind him, he turned in the doorway to see his son, standing in the dark room, a confused look to his face. "Come." This time, Luke followed him.

It didn't take long to complete a tour of Vader's rooms. There were five in total: lobby, office, meditation chamber, workshop (Luke had had to scrape his jaw of the ground, utterly in awe of the heaps of junk Vader had managed to collect) and medical.

That last one, Vader really hadn't wanted to show his son. It was a testament to his weakness and failures. However, when Luke saw it, after realisation dawned on his face, there was no pity. No horror or shock or even _sympathy_, just a small, sad smile coupled with a strange expression of awe which made Vader's heart ache; he had no idea why.

"They're smaller than I expected; your rooms." Luke eventually said once they settled down in the Lobby again.

"What _did_ you expect?"

"Uh, a mansion…?" He said sheepishly. "You _are_ the second most powerful man in the Empire."

"That does not necessarily mean wasteful, Luke," Vader said, turning his head to face his son. "I do not require a… 'Mansion,' as you put it."

The Rebel dipped his head then brought it back up again, meeting his father's eyes, even despite the mask, with unnerving accuracy. "But, if you need that suit to live, shouldn't you have a larger medical bay?"

"Others need it more than I do." Vader replied evasively, trying to channel his inner Obi-Wan. From the look on his son's face, it wasn't working.

However, before more could be said, someone wearing entirely black strode through the door to Vader's quarters. Behind them followed a line of unfamiliar 'Troopers, each one decked in armour that looked far more resistant than the normal fare. The brilliant white gleam of each set was interrupted only by a deep black mark that embellished their chest pieces, directly over where a human heart should have been.

"Vader." The person stated. They had a neutral sort of voice, making it impossible to tell anything about them. A half mask hid their face and a sleek, modified blaster sat in their holster. "Our Master wants the boy. You know this, I know this. _Obviously_, you refused, so now we're having this conversation. Hand the scum bag over and I'll get out of your hair-… Scalp? Scars?" They brought up a hand to cover where their mouth should have been, beneath the mask. Vader watched on, unimpressed with the amount of sarcasm permeating such a small movement. "Oh, I do hope I didn't cause any offense, _Milord_."

"You want Luke," Vader said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Said young man was glancing between his father and the new visitor, a look of confusion evident.

"Well, Master wants him. I don't particularly give a fuck, but that doesn't really matter, does it? Hand the bastard over and I'm sure you'll be forgiven for this… _Oversight_."

Vader hesitated. He didn't want to give his son over to the Emperor. But, he also couldn't just turn again Sidious, could he? He would die, Luke would die. There wasn't a choice.

"No," He said, to everyone's surprise, including his own. And then, the room descended into chaos.

The strange Stormtroopers began firing without hesitation, their aim frighteningly good. Each shot was deflected back at them, but their armour didn't share the same weaknesses as an average 'Trooper's. Amidst the hail of red and blue lasers, Vader wrapped a large, unforgiving arm around Luke and tugged him against his side, lightsabre whirling furiously as he deflected shots, eventually finding a weakness to the armour and a single 'Trooper dropped to the floor, screaming in agony and grasping at the stump of his shoulder.

Vader snorted at the pathetically writhing man, "Get over it," He grumbled humourlessly before turning his attention back to deflecting bolts. It didn't take long for the rest to suffer the same fate after Vader discovered the weaknesses in the armour, which left him standing in a room filled with bodies.

The only one still standing, other than Vader and Luke, was the creature. He had managed to get closer, which allowed Luke to see how _tall_ they were. Vader only had a few centimetres on the creature (it couldn't be human, not after how _fast_ Luke had seen it weaving between lasers).

"Really?" The alien eventually asked, between panted breaths. "You're going to turn against our _Master _for some Outer Rim _Rebel_?! Did you forget who our Master happens to be? _**Darth Sidious**_?! Are you _seriously_ going against him?"

"Yes," Vader said, calmly as ever, tightening his grip on Luke despite that and, through a tenuous bond, Luke could sense worry and unease pouring from his Father.

"Well shit." And then they attacked, bringing up their blaster as they started to move, firing round after round of blue energy. Vader blocked each one with the same effortlessness of before, but then his opponent seemed to simply disappear.

Vader growled, widening his stance as he glanced around warily. Only a warning through the Force stopped him from being disembowelled. He jerked to the side, the alien wielding a spear of sorts. Mechanisms along its sides showed that it was probably collapsible. The fact that Vader's head was close enough to its blade that he could decipher that made fear settle into his stomach like lead. What would happen to Luke if he died?

Before he could question it any further, the spear was being reversed to drive into his stomach. Instead of meeting its target, Vader grabbed the offending metal, using his superhuman cybernetics to crush it. The alien snarled as he yanked the weapon away, just as Vader swung with his 'sabre once again, aiming to cut through his opponent's abdomen. He managed to scorch a trail through the alien's clothes, but not much else.

The two parted, Vader backing up, checking his son for injury through the Force in his spare moment.

"You won't give up, will you?"

"Certainly not to you, _Hand_," The title (Luke assumed it was such) was hissed with as much venom as Vader could squeeze through the vocoder.

However, there was no more time for talking, as Vader suddenly stumbled, letting out a pained groan. His grip on Luke slipped, and the armoured warrior collapsed to his knees, creating the most awful clanging sound as his metal prosthetics hit the durasteel floor.

"Father…?" Luke gasped, stumbling backwards from the sudden lack of support. "Father, what happened?!"

Vader only managed a snarl in response, but the Hand answered instead.

"You do look quite pathetic like that, don't you, My Lord?" Luke twisted to see the alien, a frown heavy on his brow. "And all because of this here little box."

"What did you do to him?!" Luke yelled, concern colouring his voice. Vader groaned again, fists clenching against the floor where he knelt. "Stop it!"

The Hand seemed to ignore the last part and cocked his head at Luke. "Just used this nice control box," He held it up; an innocuous little shape that fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. "You know, My Lord over there has a _lot_ of machinery: he's all wired up. So, I'm just using his remote control. If you've got an attack dog, need to be able to fucking control the damn thing. It's like… Whipping a slave, but without all the nasty bits. Or effort."

Luke just stared at the man, disbelief and fury mingling into an awful, helpless emotion that curled up in his stomach. "Let him go." He said, trying to make it come out as calmly as possible.

"No," The Hand replied. Luke was certain the alien was smiling behind their mask.

But, before they could talk anymore, they let out a pained yelp, and the box was sent flying as their arm jerked from the sudden electric shock that travelled through them. Behind the alien, Artoo let out a battle cry and charged, ramming his compact body into the Hand with as much force as he could generate over the metre gap between them.

That was all the distraction Luke needed to scurry across the floor, find the remote and crush it. Almost immediately, Vader slumped to the ground, respirator working double time to keep him alive after… whatever it was that the Hand had done.

"Father?" Luke called, turning back to the armoured man and scrambling over to him.

Vader pulled in another rasping breath of air. Then, slowly, he struggled upright. It took him two tries to regain his feet, but when he did, he towered over the Hand, who was now lying on the floor being electrocuted by the loyal astromech.

"Artoo, you can stop now." A reluctant wail sounded, causing father and son to smile slightly. But, he stopped, leaving the alien jerking on the floor and gasping for breath.

He didn't say anything, just looked up at the two Skywalkers, patiently waiting for his death blow to be struck.

He didn't have to wait long; Vader drove his lightsabre through the Hand's heart dispassionately. After a few seconds of writhing about on the floor, the alien eventually gave in to death, and the light in their brown eyes disappeared.

After a few moments, Vader activated his comm, calling for his lobby to be cleared out by industrial cleaners. He then strode from the room and into his private medical bay, Luke following close behind. After half an hour of check-ups, Vader was finally satisfied that his son was utterly uninjured, which prompted Luke to insist his father go through checks as well. Vader complied, if only to appease his son.

As Luke sat in a stool – hastily dragged in by the single medical droid – and watched as his father underwent treatment. That remote had disabled the main power of Vader's suit. Any longer, and he would have fallen into a coma. He waited in silence for five minutes before speaking.

"Did the Emperor want me?"

"…Yes."

"Why?"

Vader managed to huff out a sigh. "Because you are my son, young one. You are far more powerful than I am, _and_ have an intact body. Sidious wants you for your power."

"So… You defied him?"

"…Yes."

Luke stared down at Vader and then a grin split his face, which had his father replying with a smaller one of his own.

"Thanks, dad."


End file.
